


Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, Pietro Maximoff Needs a Hug, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22930678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: The fact of the matter was Pietro should have come with a warning label. Dangerously unstable. Anxious mess.200 pounds of pressure in a 100 pound bag.Pietro has a bad night, and Lance has no idea how to help.
Relationships: Lance Alvers & Pietro Maximoff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)

Pietro could hit a hell of a lot harder than Lance would have thought.

That was the thought running through Lance's head when he saw the younger teen throw a punch straight through the drywall, barely missing a stud.

Memories flashed in and out of his head. His father in one of his drunken rampages. First foster mom's shitty boyfriend had a temper on him too...

"I hate him," Pietro said through gritted teeth.

Lance sighed and plopped down onto the couch. It wasn't like he knew what to do in situations like this. It wasn't like anyone had ever taught him or even could. Because what the hell was he supposed to say when the closest thing he had to a best friend was losing his goddamn mind?

Sometimes Lance counted himself lucky. Pietro never opened up. Not to anyone. Not if he could help it.

If there was one thing Pietro was good at? It was running away.

Not that Lance could blame him much.

The little he knew about his friend, the more he didn't want to know more.

If there were someone on the planet Pietro hated more than Magneto?

Lance would hate to be that son of a bitch.

The fact of the matter was Pietro should have come with a warning label. Dangerously unstable. Anxious mess.

200 pounds of pressure in a 100 pound bag.

And one day?

One day all that pressure would blow.

And Lance pitied anyone unlucky enough to be in the way when it did.

Pietro was pacing now, and Lance kept a close eye on him. Fred and Todd had been smart enough to stay away.

Even they, at least, knew when not to poke the bear.

“Nothing I do is enough for him,” Pietro stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look Lance in the eye.

His walls were down, and Lance wondered if he was the only one who ever saw Pietro like this. Broken and stressed and in desperate need of a decent night’s sleep.

Lance wished there was an easy answer. That he could just tell Pietro to tell Magneto to fuck off and be done with it.

But there were never any easy answers when it came to Pietro.

Magneto’s claws were in deep.

Lance wondered if he’d ever stood a fighting chance.

Pietro could talk all he wanted. They both knew he’d go back.

He always did.

It would get him killed one of these days.

“I hate him,” he repeated, quieter that time. All the fight drained out of him.

Lance watched as he sunk to the ground, resting his back against the wall he’d just hit a hole through.

They’d be spending all damn weekend repairing the damned thing. God knew Mystique wouldn’t do it.

Pietro stared up at the ceiling, and Lance debated moving next to him or keeping a safe distance away.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Lance wasn’t sure how to answer that.

He wasn’t sure Pietro wanted an answer at all.

He took a breath and shut his eyes and weighed his options. 

Because Pietro wouldn’t understand someone caring about him if it came up and smacked him upside the head.

Lance sighed and stood up, moving across the room and sinking down beside his friend. 

He was more than a bit surprised when Pietro didn’t immediately bolt.

Instead his friend looked over at him, eyes dead and cold and aged in a way that they shouldn’t have been. Pietro was barely 16. He shouldn’t be dealing with half of this shit.

“I don’t know, ‘Tro,” Lance responded and stared up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to wrap an arm around the younger teen. Pietro would freak if he did. Flinch away like any non-violent touch would burn him.

He glanced down at Pietro’s hand. The bloodied and bruised knuckles were already healing. By this time tomorrow, there’d be no indication anything had happened at all. Save, of course, the gaping hole in the living room wall.

“I wish he would have just stayed the fuck away.”

The words were so quiet Lance wasn’t sure he’d heard them at all.

Pietro screwed his eyes shut and rested his head on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance didn’t dare move for fear of scaring him off.

“All I ever wanted was for him to want me,” Pietro laughed, a dry, humourless thing that made Lance’s stomach twist in knots. He was scared enough of Magneto. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be his son. “And now he does. Now that I’m useful to him.” 

A silence fell over them. Something heavy and crushing that Lance didn’t know how to break.

He wanted to make this better.

Wanted to take Pietro’s hurt away and throw it so far no one would ever find it again.

But where the hell was he even supposed to start with issues that ran that deep? With dynamics he didn’t and would never understand?

“I never stood a fucking chance.”

_ No,  _ Lance agreed silently.

Once Magneto decided on something, there was nothing in the universe that could change his mind. And once he decided he wanted something? Come hell or high water, it would be his.

And them?

They were just kids he’d pulled in to fight his battles for him.

Pietro had never stood a chance.

None of them had.


End file.
